The Birth of Hope
by Karana123
Summary: In many History classes across the globe, youth are being taught of the rise and fall of the Roman Empire. These past doings come to haunt fifteen-year-old Lilliana. It strips her of her knowledge and lends her a challenging task. No romance with Arthur.
1. Chapter 1

Many people tell me that the past is the past, and there's nothing you can do about it. You can't fix the mistakes of your ancestors, or relinquish the faults they have endured. You can't stop a violent man from killing his wife. But neither can you stop an Emperor from invading a new land. These all have happened before, more than once, more than twice, but several times in a lineage of people.

Then why bother with what can't be changed?

Why did I have to spend my afternoons learning of myths and legends, supposed heroes and spoiled royalty? What drove the school board into allowing children to hear of battles won, and battles lost, when we have so many battles left to come? Wouldn't that just give them more ideas?

In truth, I was a pacifist during the time of these childish thoughts. I was repulsed in hearing of the many slaughters that our world had overcome in my World History class. I was struck in shock in hearing of the days when our equals lived as slaves. When even the noblest of folk were tortured and burned. And when mercy was not a valuable or common virtue seen in the hands of the rank of the powerful.

Where was the love, the honour and real fealty in all that brouhaha? One couldn't unite a people happily in the days of old. Force was eminent. Fear and anger pulsed through the people. The people pulsed through the power of the Rule. Where were the modern ideas that drove my city, country, and the entire world forward into what it was today?

But my views had changed one fateful day.

The day I learnt of the true meanings of old was the day I was swept away from my classroom in a fit of tears. It had been a long day. A spirit day I opposed to join. It was Beach Day.

My friend, Elizabeth (I'll tell you this, reader, even if she isn't involved in my adventures), had convinced me to dress in my least favourite outfit of all – a flower-printed sundress and a pair of old flip-flops. My long, light-brown hair was tied back and fastened with a white clip in a half pony-tail. When she had seen me early that morning, she had rushed me into the washroom to apply mascara to the lashes under my sea-green eyes.

But then, when I had went running from my World History class crying, that mascara had left its place and ran itself down my cheeks. I looked like a mess. I was a walking clump of cloth and puffy-faced makeup.

That fateful day had been a test day. We had just finished learning of the Roman Empire, and we were starting to move forward towards the Dark Ages. Robert Kingston had been making smooth comments at me all day. I was a foolish girl, and believed his words. But when it was time for the test, he had come to sit beside me. I was ecstatic, but noticed his true reasoning – his eyes kept peeking towards my paper. He'd copy my answers and I would then look over at him. At one point, he saw me snooping and had told the teacher I had been copying off of _him._

So there I went, scuffling off to the principal's office for the first time in my life, for a crime I did not commit. I felt horrified, played, and ashamed of my beliefs in the handsomely dark boy. My rage made me run the length of the corridor, and turn left instead of right. With my luck, I ended up colliding with my English teacher, Mrs. Folcner.

"Ah, Liliana, dear, what are you doing out of class?"

She then saw my tears and frowned. "Is it about a boy?"

I nodded.

She dug inside her bag for a moment. It wasn't too long before she hauled out a hardcover book.

"Here, take this. It helped me get over my last breakup."

And with that, I took the book from her and thanked her. She winked and turned on her heel, whistling a tune I hadn't heard before. I then looked at the book's name. But it didn't have one.

I slipped my fingers through the folds of the tome, and felt my arm being pulled, as if one was being taken from their place. The book opened all the way. I found myself staring at a forest of trees and beautiful lush greenery. Then, I closed my eyes to only open them once more in the book.

**This is very short, but I just wanted to see how it turned out. Then, if I get positive feedback, it'll start growing bigger, and bigger, and so forth. So thanks for reading it. But I have one thing; this may not work well in this section, because this all happens before the movie and before the characters even become a major play in the story. If you don't want it here, then feel free to say – gently, please. Comment! Thanks =)**


	2. Chapter 2

_**WARNING: VIOLENCE AND IMPLIED MATURE THEMES. If you don't want to hear of something pretty darn gruesome (I won't go into detail, I promise.) This WAS rated TEEN,but now is under MATURE (16 years or older). Please be understanding.**_

I felt it before I even saw it.

Waves of icy wind blew over me, catching my hair in a frantic dance. I felt the leaves being whipped onto my face and into my mouth, which I spat out in disgust. Not being able to control my curiosity much longer, I opened my eyes.

My orbs were seeing something so odd, yet so brilliant. I almost beamed with excitement. There, surrounding me was a line of beautiful trees. They looked so real, so lifelike, that I had the urge to reach out and touch them. I wanted to feel their smooth bark upon my skin. I wanted to know if I was really there.

And so I touched them. It felt like any tree I'd felt at home. The bark was chipped and the trunk was wide and old. I had then looked up from my position to see the wideness of the tree's limbs stretch across and shoot upwards towards the rays of the dying sun.

With the sun starting to set, I had reckoned that figuring out where I was my first priority. When I started to walk out of my clearing, I thought that my situation could have been all a dream. I suspected this because the surrealism seemed to feel very much like reality. The stillness and sureness of the area made me think otherwise. A book couldn't have led me to a dream.

Then again, a book shouldn't have been a wormhole, either.

About an hour later, I was shivering in the dark and cold of the night. I resumed to a state of fear and shock. My hands rubbed against my arms while I hugged myself close. My feet ached with sores and pains. I started to slow my pace a little, to become aware of my surroundings.

All of a sudden, a crackling noise erupted from behind me. I jumped in fear and swung around. There was only a bush. Then it came again.

_Crack! _The noise came.

I backed away from the bush slowly. "Hello?"

_Crack!_ It came again, this time bringing a set of faces along with it.

Right then, I had gasped in fear.

They were big men, their bodies bulky and fit. Their heavy-set faces contained dark-haired beards and menacingly beady eyes. They stooped and whooped loudly, like they had been drinking. I stepped back even more, even smelling the alcohol in their approaching breaths. They took one look at me, and their grins widened immensely.

Taking a few steps away, I whimpered. "Get away from me!"

The three men grunted and laughed as they pushed through the bushes. I then noticed what they were wearing – an array of furs and peculiar cloths. What they carried in their hands though, frightened me the most.

Centuries ago, it would've have been the deadliest weapon. Today, it was one of the oldest and still very deadly. Now that artefact was being taken out and pointed straight at me.

A sword! Three swords!

"Drop those things!"

My little remarks didn't faze them. It was as if they couldn't understand me, or didn't want to understand me. They kept creeping their way towards me. I hugged myself tightly, tears streaking down my face once more.

I couldn't back away any farther. I had found myself cornered against a tree trunk and a pile of high bushes.

(This is the moment I most dread in telling you, dear reader. This is the part of the story that pains me the most. It's chilling and heart-wrenching. I can never go through this memory without tearing up.)

The biggest of them all reached out for me, grinning maniacally. I felt it – I _knew_ it was coming. His meaty hand reached out and grabbed at my waist.

I went down struggling and screaming for home.

Once I had given up the fight, and he was done, the three men didn't move on.

His friend straddled down upon me next, a toothless grin gracing his features. I couldn't fight him. He was strong and demanding and I weak and afraid. (I won't go into many hardy details, dear reader. It is not a tale I wish to retell). When he was done, and the other two men watched, laughing, the third went for my feeble frame.

But before he could jump upon his prey, I heard the sound of something plunging deep into flesh and a cry of anguish.

Then, chaos erupted.

My droopy eyes didn't see the entire squabble fought before me. I could hear the shouts. I could hear the movement of their feet parrying one another. I could hear the sound of steel on steel, clanging and blocking blades.

Just then, I was shaken out of my stupor by a large hand grabbing at my hair. I opened my eyes wearily, and saw one of the men from earlier wielding a knife to my throat.

I couldn't even scream. I couldn't even cry.

He said something in that unknown language, that got a rise out of his opponent. I looked towards the shout, and saw the other two men from earlier, dead.

This other man that stood in their stead was very different. He was thinner and lankier, with curly brown hair on his head and a young face. He slowly approached my oppressor, speaking in dangerous tones.

They shot back and forth for a moment. Then, I felt the blade slip from my neck, and cut my arm a little. For this, I could scream. But before I could finish screaming, the man had let go of me. I fell alongside him in weakness.

I turned my head and saw that the new man's blade was sticking out my attacker's chest. I breathed a sigh of relief and shut my eyes.

I fell asleep without a thought.

I awoke to the warmth of a fire crackling beside me.

It was a slightly welcoming feeling, after being out in the coldness all night. I could still feel the aching pains ripple through me. I could tell that the scars those men had left me with would be there for life. Even then, I had known that. The warmth of the crackling flares soothed the pain a little.

But there was something strange about the fire.

_Had I even lit one last night? _I had thought.

My eyes shot open. Above, I saw an affectionate face staring down at me.

Impulsively, I screamed weakly in fear.

**That was so sad :(. Hopefully, you understand my confusing-ness. It's cliché, so far, but I got ideas to uncliche it. Thanks! Review!**


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